


The Harry Potter Book Club

by Leviosa7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, Gen, HP: Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviosa7/pseuds/Leviosa7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione hosts a book club in the midst of her second pregnancy. Ron, Harry, Luna and Neville join her.<br/>"So book club leader," Harry started focusing his attention on Hermione, "What's our book?"<br/>"It's just been released. It's a futuristic dystopia of muggle America. It's called The Hunger Games."<br/>How do the characters react?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've had for a while and suddenly have the urge to continue working on it. I may be editing it along the way, and changing or adding some things. Hang on tight!

Hermione Granger sat cradled in an old rocking chair, the soft cushions enveloping her in comfort as she gently lay her hands upon her pregnant belly. Her back felt constantly strained from the added weight on her stomach, but for being eight months pregnant she knew it was normal. She looked up at the clock above her with three hands on it instead of two. The one with her own face rested on 'home' while her baby daughter, Rose's lay on 'visiting.' She noticed Ron's moving from 'work' to 'traveling.'

Almost instantly she heard the faint pop sound from the kitchen. She couldn't hold back the smile that traced on her lips at her husband being home from the ministry. It was typical of him to apparate directly to the room with food. She was sure his stomach would be rumbling of hunger for dinner. Some things never change.

She heard his heavy footsteps growing louder as he walked around. "Hermione," he shouted. "Where are you, love?"

"In here!" she called back, happy for the warmth that continued to flow through her when she heard his voice. It was as comforting and warm to her as an old book and cozy blanket.

"And how are we doing today?" He kneeled down, his dark robes brushing the carpet. He placed a lingering kiss on Hermione's lips and flashed her a lop-sided grin before moving his hand down to her belly and placing a small kiss there, too.

Hermione lifted her hand to rest it on top of his and intertwined their fingers together. "Hugo and I are doing just fine. He's been moving a lot today."

Ron smirked at her. "Hugo, huh? Does that mean Joey is off the table?"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow at him, biting her lip to stifle a laugh building inside of her. "For the last time, Ron, we will not be naming our son after a quidditch player."

Ron slapped a half-hearted pout on his face and quivered his lower lip for extra effect. "Not even from the Chudley Cannons?" he asked in mock offense.

"Especially not," she huffed before releasing a small giggle.

"Can't blame a man for trying. It's probably for the best, Harry and George would never let me live it down."

She laughed. "As well they shouldn't." She shook her head at him. "How was work today?"

He rose to his feet and flopped down onto the couch, slouching low into the cushions. "Long day," he said with a sigh. "Mostly uneventful, loads of paperwork and filing. One intern tried to accio his mug of tea but lost concentration when the bird he fancies walked by. Spilled the tea all over my papers." He groaned. "If anyone is going to be a clumsy git, it'll be me."

Hermione's face softened as she looked at him. " _When did our lives become so completely ordinary_?" she thought.

"If that's the worst bit of your day, I'd say it was a good day."

"'Specially now I'm home with you." He grinned at her. "How's mum and Rosie today?"

"You know she loves having a home full of grandchildren to look after."

Ron's stomach gave a loud rumble and he smiled sheepishly towards her.

"I expect Harry and Ginny will be here soon. Ginny said she just needs to put Lily to sleep and send Harry for some take out."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes looked lost in confusion.

"You haven't forgotten, Ronald?"

"No, 'course not," he said as he jumped to his feet and headed in the direction of the bedroom. His voice drifted loudly from the distance. "Reminds me, I got an owl from Neville today. He said he can make it this time."

"Great! I feel it's been ages we've seen Neville. Between Rosie and Neville's classes..."

Ron reappeared in a pair of trousers and a bright orange jumper, his ginger hair slightly tousled. The boyish grin from his youth never faded from his face.

Just then Hermione heard a faint pop from outside the front door and soon followed a soft knock against the wood. Ron walked to the door and propped it open just enough to see who was on the other side. He flung it open with enthusiasm.

"All right there, mate?" Ron said to Neville with a clap on the back.

Neville walked into the room peeling off his coat and hanging it over the dining chair.

"I'm great, Ron," he said with an air of excitement. "All right Ron, Hermione?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the bright green flames of the fireplace. Soon after Harry and Ginny emerged from the flames, brushing ash from their coats. Harry gripped a baby seat with floating stars, broomsticks, unicorns and wands that swirled around above it. The wands emitting small sparks of light periodically. Snuggled inside sleeping was their youngest child of one month, Lily Luna Potter.

"Sorry, we're late probably. Dad just flooed in before we left. Mum wants the kids for the weekend," Ginny said quickly. "Rosie too," she added as she set a large bag onto the table. The smell that wafted from the bag even made Hermione's stomach growl in anticipation.

Harry sprawled himself on the couch and set Lily down beside him. Ginny quickly followed suit as she inched closer to Harry and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Luna's back from France!" Harry announced with a bright smile. "Said she'll be here. Wants more time with her goddaughter."

"Brilliant!"

"Awesome."

"Oh, I can't wait to see her-Ron, we have guests. We're all hungry," Hermione scolded as she slapped away Ron's hands from the bag.

"Right. I'll bring some plates," Ron retorted with a guilty look.

Luna appeared in the doorway, her long white hair falling in messy waves where small radishes hung from her ears. Her skin had a soft tan and she smiled brightly to no one in particular.

"Ooh, I'm so glad to see you all," she cheered with a small clap of her hands. "Hermione, you're absolutely glowing! I suspect the nargles are fond of pregnant women."

Hermione's eyes brightened up and she released a laugh. "Luna, I've missed you."

Ron returned with a stack of plates and utensils and handed them out. He began gathering food on a plate and handing it to Hermione before making himself one. Harry did the same for Ginny. Hermione thought Mrs. Weasley would be proud of the men her boys had grown into.

"It's lovely to be with friends again," Luna announced. Her bright blue eyes searched the room. "Now where's baby Lily?"

"Lily Luna is sleeping but can't wait to see her Godmother," Ginny responded softly as Luna skipped around the couch and sat cross-legged in front of the baby seat. Luna delicately rubbed her index finger on top of Lily's hand - "for good luck," she explained – and Lily wrapped her tiny hand around Luna's finger. Luna seemed elated.

"So, what is it-this month-'ermione?" Ron asked in between mouthfuls of food.

"Manners, Ronald Bil-"

"Oi! Ginny."

"Well, dear brother we'd all rather not see your food."

Ron mumbled incoherently to himself.

"It's a muggle story-"

"Not a Lockhart best-seller?" Ron asked smugly.

"Or another romance?" Harry groaned.

"Oh, shut it, you two," Ginny interjected.

"Well, after hearing you two complain about the classic love story Romeo and Juliet, I thought I'd pick a modern one this time," Hermione said defensively.

"It didn't make any sense, love. Then the bloody bloke offs himself when he thinks she died."

"It's Shakespearean, Ron."

"The bloke who wore the tights?" Neville asked. Ron and Harry looked at him with an incredulous look on their faces. Neville blushed. "Hannah loves him. Her favorite poet, he is."

"How are things with Hannah, Neville?" Luna asked dreamily.

"We're getting on well. She's on vacation with her parents in America right now. Something about a big apple."

"That's wonderful, Neville." Luna, Ginny and Hermione beamed at him.

"So, book club leader," Harry started, focusing his attention on Hermione, "What's our book?"

She picked up her wand from the end table beside her and pointed it in the direction of the dining area.

"Accio book."

An average-sized book with a black cover came soaring towards them. Hermione wrapped her eager fingers around the cover and perched it up on her lap. She turned it outward to show everyone in the living room.

"It's just been released. It's a futuristic dystopia of muggle America. It's called The Hunger Games."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends start the book!

**When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.**

"What's a re-"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, Ron. It's only the introduction," Hermione said to him.

**I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cacooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together.**

"That sounds comforting," Luna said, an edge of sadness thick in her throat. She had longed to do that very thing with her mother, but instead often felt alone as a child.

**In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named.**

"That's how I felt about Rosie," Ron injected with an airy voice that sounded like it could have belonged to Luna. Hermione and Ron shared a dreamy look together, smiles planted clearly on their faces, as if remembering that moment.

**My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.**

**Sitting at Prim's knees, guarding her, is the world's ugliest cat.**

"Crookshanks," Ron grumbled under his breath. Harry snorted and Hermione pretended to not hear him.

**Mashing-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower.**

"Prim sounds lovely," Luna said to the room.

"And whoever is telling the story isn't fond of the cat," Neville added with a small chuckle.

**He hates me.**

"Makes sense," Neville said.

**Or at least distrust me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed.**

"Prim is the narrator's sister?" Ginny asked.

"I think so, yes," Hermione answered. Ginny's face dropped in concern but only briefly.

**But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay.**

"This person must really love Prim," Harry said thinking of the Dursleys who could barely stand to feed him. ' _Most of the time they didn't_ ', he reminded himself with a sigh. 

**My mother got rid of the vermin and he's a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat.**

**Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.**

**Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.**

"Gets straight to the point, this one," Neville commented.

**I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim's gift to me on reaping day. I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside.**

"Prim seems sweet," Ginny said. "I wish I had a little sister."

**Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and woman with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, man who have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken faces.**

"Sounds like they could use a good scourgify charm," Ron announced. Hermione gave him a look and mouthed what looked like 'muggles.'

**But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can.**

Harry shuttered internally, chills running through him, tying his stomach in knots. Images of their dark cloaks bustling in the wind, their hoods that hang over their hungry mouths... "It's like a Dementor is there. The description reminds me of the fear Voldemort created when he was in power."

They all shivered involuntarily, Ron and Hermione in particular.

"I know," Ginny said. "Whatever this reaping day is, it doesn't sound pleasant."

**Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire loops.**

"You'd think it was a bloody prison," Neville gasped.

"That could very well be the intent," Luna responded, appearing deep in thought.

**In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods-packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears-that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is live.**

"Er, live? Elektricy made the fence come alive?" Ron questioned. Neville looks equally confused, his eyes furrowed.

" _Electricity,"_ Hermione corrected. Wizards and witches could really benefit from muggle studies. "It's more like slang meant to say it's on. Like when you hear the telly turn on like I showed you at my parents."

Ron's eyes darted around the room as if hoping the memory would appear out of thin air. His mouth contorted in an 'o' shape briefly. "Right. We watched the film."

**Right now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been lose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here.**

**As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hallow log.**

"Whatsa bow?" Nevilled asked.

"They're weapons intended to injure or kill, mostly used for hunting animals. The arrows are like long knives and the bow is used to propel it out toward a target."

**Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District 12. Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow.**

"You'd fit right in there, Harry. Sounds like the Forbidden Forest," Ron said with an air of lightness in his tone. The hint of a smile played on Harry's lips.

**But there's also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.**

"How terrible," Luna noted, her usual dreamy voice was flat and slightly shaky. Luna's face looked sunken as her eyes seemed to dull. Neville moved closer to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Your mum would be proud of you," he said to her with as much gentleness as he could muster.

"Thank you," she said, "Please continue, Hermione."

**Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My father could have mad good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion.**

"Very paranoid, these muggles are," Neville said frowning.

"Isn't this set in the future? Seems more like the dark ages," Ginny noted. Ron's head nodded up and down, agreeing with her.

**Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're among our best customers. But the idea that someone might be arming the Seam would never have been allowed.**

**In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. "District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.**

Hermione stopped reading and let the book fall slightly as she looked up. "This government seems very corrupt," she muttered viciously.

"Or bloody fools like Fudge was," Harry added. Hermione cleared her throat rather aggressively and continued.

**When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.**

"Wonder if she'd be any good at occlumency," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"She?" Ron questioned, his eyebrows raised like they might disappear into his hairline.

"Dunno, mate. Just imagined a girl."

"Bet ya a galleon it's a _he_ ," Ron said.

Harry stayed silent for a moment before extending his arm and leaning forward toward him. "You're on."

Hermione rolled her eyes in unison with Ginny.

**Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?**

**In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.**

Harry broke out in a wide grin and directed it at Ron. "Ha," he said. "It has to be a girl."

"Hold your knickers, Harry. _He_ could just have a really, really good friend," Ron tried with an attempt of conviction in his voice. Neville raised his eyebrow at Ron and shook his head. "Maybe he's gay," Ron said defiantly in mock defense. Hermione glanced down at her book reading ahead quickly. She tried to suppress her giggle. Luna seemed amused at the whole situation.

" **Hey, Catnip," says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I'd said Catnip.**

Ron let out an exasperated sigh before digging in his pocket and retrieving the gold coin. He tossed it at Harry, grumbling under his breath.

**Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me. I finally had to kill the lynx because he scared off game. I almost regretted it because he wasn't bad company. But I got a decent price for his pelt.**

" **Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. It's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make from our grain rations. I take it in my hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that makes my mouth flood with saliva. Fine bread like this is for special occasions.**

Ron's stomach churned and gave a low rumble though he just ate. Neville looked at him, smirking.

"Mind of its own, I swear."

" **Mm, still warm," I say. He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "What did it cost you?"**

" **Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me luck."**

" **Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say, not even bothering to roll my eyes. "Prim left us cheese." I pull it out.**

Luna's ears looked to be perched up as she listened carefully as if every word was hanging in the air by a thread. "Whatever the events of the day, the whole district seems affected by it."

"I wonder what it can be, the reaping," Ginny responded.

**His expression brightens at the treat. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" He plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds-" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me."**

**I catch it in my mouth and break skin with my teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "-** **_be_ ** **ever in your favor!"**

"Whatever they're on about, I hope they stay friends. Everyone should have someone who understands them." Harry looked around the room, reminiscing to each the times he first met his best friends. Harry, who had no friends until he went to Hogwarts and met Ron on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione, too lonesome and brilliant for her own good put people off to her with her know-it-all attitude. Poor Neville, who lacked confidence all those years ago. And Luna, always immersed in a world all her own was unapproachable. He gripped Ginny's hand in his own and squeezed it firmly. He wouldn't trade any of them for the fastest broom or the most powerful wand, no amount of fame or wealth would ever replace them.

"Hear, hear." Ron said as he tossed a small Bernie Bott's Every Flavor jellybean in a high arc toward him. Harry instinctively opened his mouth and caught it in his mouth. Harry scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Alas," he said grinning as Dumbledore popped into his thoughts, "earwax."

"How unfortunate, Harry," said Luna as she ticked her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"Not at all, Luna." He smiled at her. Hermione's smile only grew wider watching her two best friends.

**I finish with equal verve. We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of your wits. Besides, the Capitol accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it.**

Hermione's face fell as she read on.

**I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, we even have the same gray eyes. But we're not related, at least not closely. Most of the families who work the mines resemble one another this way.**

**That's why my mother and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes, always look out of place. They are. My mother's parents were part of the small merchant class that caters to officials, Peacekeepers, and the occasional Seam customer. They ran an apothecary shop in the nicer part of District 12. Since almost no one can afford doctors,-**

"Like Healers," Harry said to the room.

**-apothecaries are our healers. My father got to know my mother because on his hunts he would collect medical herbs and sell them to her shop to be brewed into remedies. She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type.**

"I can't imagine mum ever doing that," Ginny said softly. Ron shook his head swiftly.

"Seems like a Dementor took the woman's soul when she lost her husband," Luna added sadly.

" **We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly.**

" **What?" I ask.**

" **Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale.**

"I think he has feelings for her," Hermione spoke from behind the book.

"Could be," Neville said.

**I don't know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous.**

" **If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly.**

" **They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling.**

Ginny smacked her lips in displeasure. Why should they have to provide for their entire families? She tried to imagine herself doing that at sixteen. A warmth spread through her as she thought of her mum, always bustling around to care for seven children, and her father always hard at work so they could scrape by but live a happy life.

"That's not a pretty feeling," Harry said almost angry.

" **I never want to have kids," I say.**

" **I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale.**

" **But you do," I say, irritated.**

" **Forget it," he snaps back.**

"She smart to think that way," said Luna.

Neville pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. "But how awful to feel that way."

"I used to feel the same," Harry said. Ginny frowned at him. "And now I can't imagine life without my family."

"Funny how your life seems like a story, mate," Ron said. "Maybe someone should write books about _you._ "

"Funny wouldn't be the word that comes to mind," Hermione said.

"I'm surprised Skeeter hasn't written loads of biographies by now," Neville said. Ron grinned and stifled a laugh while Hermione cleared her throat.

 

**The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did...even if we did...where did this stuff about having kids come from? There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out.**

**Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.**

Ron raised an eyebrow with a small gleam in his eyes. "She needs to sort out her priorities," he said with the shake of his head. Hermione snorted next to him as Harry laughed.

" **What do you want to do?" I ask. We can hunt, fish, or gather.**

" **Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," he says.**

**Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year.**

"What's she on about?" questioned Ron. " _Spared?_ "

"No idea, mate. Doesn't sound like a quidditch match," Neville said.

Hermione squared her shoulders, feeling uneasy about what the reaping was.

**But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.**

**We make out well. The predators ignore us on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.**

**On the way home, we swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. When we came up with a more efficient system that transported coal directly from the mines to the trains, the Hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the black market's still fairly busy.**

"I'm calling it now," Ron started, "she'd be a Gryffindor."

"She seems quite clever. Ravenclaw is possible," Luna retorted.

"It may be too early to know," Harry added.

**When we finish our business at the market, we go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries, knowing he has a particular fondness for them and can afford our price. The mayor's daughter, Madge, opens the door. She's in my year at school. Being the mayor's daughter, you'd expect her to be a snob, but she's all right. She just keeps to herself. Like me. Since neither of us really has a group of friends, we seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities. We rarely talk, which suits us just fine.**

"I expect the wrackburts clouds their minds when together," Luna added thoughtfully.

**Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes.**

" **Pretty dress," says Gale.**

**Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment or if he's just being ironic. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"**

**Now it's Gale's turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second.**

" **You won't be going to the Capitol," says Gale coolly. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."**

" **That's not her fault," I say.**

" **No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale.**

"What does he mean? For the reaping?" Neville asked.

"I think we'll find out," Hermione responded, not looking up from the book.

**Madge's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. "Good luck, Katniss."**

" **You, too," I say, and the door closes.**

**We walk toward the Seam in silence. I don't like that Gale took a dig at Madge, but he's right, of course. The reaping system is unfair, with the poorest getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts of Panem.**

**But here's the catch. Say you are poor and starving as we were. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, I had my name entered four times. Once, because I had to, and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself, Prim, and my mother.**

Ginny looked to be fuming in her seat. "That's completely..so, effed up! Just because they're poor. I don't know what the Hunger Games or the reaping is, but that system is completely corrupt. You were right, Hermione," Ginny finished with a huff as she crossed her arms hastily over her chest.

"How cruel," Luna said in a quiet voice, "to taunt the poor and starving that way."

Though oddly quiet, Ron, Harry, and Neville looked stony faced.

**In fact, every year I have needed to do this. And the entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of sixteen, my name will be in the reaping twenty times. Gale, who is eighteen and has been either helping or single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years, will have his name in forty-two times.**

Harry let out a low whistle.

**You can see why someone like Madge, who has never been at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chances of her name being drawn is very slim compared to those of us who live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not Madge's family, it's hard not to resent those who don't have to sign up for tesserae.**

"I'd handle it no better," Ron admitted.

"Nor any of us," Hermione started, "but it doesn't mean to take it out on the poor girl."

**Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I've listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another.**

"Class differences are the worst," Ron groaned.

" **It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I'm sure she thought was a harmless comment.**

" **See you in the square," I say.**

" **Wear something pretty," he says flatly.**

"Sounds like pure-blood, muggle-born nonsense," Hermione mumbled darkly under her breath.

**At home, I find my mother and sister are ready to go. My mother wears a fine dress from her apothecary days. Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It's a bit big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins. Even so, she's having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in the back.**

Ron's attention became more alert as he listened to the words on the page. He could sympathize with Prim, what with a family of six brothers. He couldn't remember one thing growing up that was truly his besides his mum's homemade Weasley sweater. He decided he'd give this book a chance instead of just joking and mocking it as he and Harry did with the last two.

**A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even wash my hair. To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes.**

" **Are you sure?" I ask.**

**I'm trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn't allow her to do anything for me.**

"Sounds like you, mate," Neville said to Harry. Harry racked the sentiment over in his head for a moment before giving the slightest of a nod.

"Everyone needs help sometimes, I'm glad you've finally accepted it," Hermione added.

"Yeah, mate. Stubborn, brooding Harry needs to be mucked up a bit." Ron gave Harry a side smirk.

"Right," Harry said in a huff, crossing his arms. "Well, either way she has a right to be a bit angry."

**And this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very precious to her.**

" **Of course. Let's put your hair up, too," she says. I let her towel-dry it up on my head. I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall.**

" **You look beautiful," says Prim in a hushed voice.**

" **And nothing like myself," I say. I hug her, because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her.**

"She's very self-less. I often wonder how different my life could have been if I wasn't an only child," Luna said in wonderment.

"Me, too," Neville said with a sigh. "Sometimes it was quite lonely with just me and gran."

**Her first reaping. She's about as safe as you can get, since she's only entered once. I wouldn't let her take out any tesserae. But she's worried about me. That the unthinkable might happen.**

**I protect Prim in every way I can, but I'm powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.**

**Prim giggles and gives me a small "Quack."**

Luna's face broke out into a wide smile. "Quack."

"Quack!" Ginny directed at her.

" **Quack yourself," I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me. "Come on, let's eat," I say and plant a quick kiss on the top of her head.**

**The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew, but that will be for supper. We decide to save the strawberries and bakery bread for this evenings meal, to make it special we say. Instead we drink milk from Prim's goat, Lady, and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has much appetite anyway.**

"I think Katniss will be chosen," Hermione said softly in a slow voice.

Harry's face was gloomy and sullen, hard like a statue. "I hope not. Being the chosen one is never easy."

Ginny traced small circles with her fingertips on top of his hand. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "We know, sweetheart."

**At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.**

**It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square-one of the places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.**

"Reminds me of the Triwizard Tournament," said Harry distastefully.

**People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in front, the young ones, like Prim, toward the back.**

"You'd think they were bloody farm animals," Ron said aghast.

"Sounds like seventh year when the Carrows ran Hogwarts," Neville said darkly. Luna and Ginny looked at him and then to each other, with faint sadness and anger in their eyes.

To everyone's shock, Luna broke out into a fit of giggles. "I still remember the look on his face when you took of the cloak and he saw you, Harry."

Harry looked as confused as the others surely were before his lips twitched upward. "In Ravenclaw tower," Harry informed them. "I've forgotten that, Luna."

"Serves them right, Azkaban," Neville added.

**Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Seam or merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully.**

"The suspense is killing me," Ginny said so determined that it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine her actually toppling over.

"Yeah! What the bloody hell happens if they're reaped?" Ron asked.

He was answered with silence. He sighed with exaggeration and indicated for Hermione to continue.

**These people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect me. Not everyone can claim the same.**

**Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.**

"A lovely thought," Harry grunted. Ron, Neville, Luna and even Ginny looked puzzled. Harry quickly said, "Bullet is what kills someone from a gun. Like a killing curse."

"Very reassuring," Ron added with a whistle.

"It takes bravery to admit the possible ways to ensure your death," Luna commented.

"Gryffindor," Ron sing-songed.

**The space gets righter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.**

**I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Seam. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It hold three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the girl's ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting.**

**Two of the three chairs fill with Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, who's a tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.**

"That does sound frightful," Luna said with a frown.

"Could give old toadface a run for her galleons," Ron added with a grimace.

**Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the drought, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.**

All people seemed to sit higher, eyes wide with curiosity. Even Hermione, despite her pregnant belly restricting her, seemed to stiffen.

**The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.**

Hermione stopped reading and let the book fall down to her lap so suddenly, she might be considering throwing it clear across the room. It seemed the room was petrified, everyone thinking but not able to articulate their thoughts.

"That's just completely barbaric!" Hermione finally broke the silence. Her curls had fallen out of her hairband.

"Like the Triwizard Tournament only a thousand times worse," Ron fumed.

"At least that's voluntary," Neville said hotly. "er, well- for the most part," he added as an afterthought looking at Harry who was staring down at his hands, his face contorted in a mixture of bafflement and anger.

"That's to test their strengths, and rarely results in death," Hermione spoke, looking at her lap.

"This must be why she never wants to have kids," Luna said like barely a whisper with an edge in her voice so rarely heard.

"And it's for punishment! As if the kids have anything to do with it," Ginny shouted.

"I suspect it keeps the districts in line," Hermione said quickly.

"Let's just continue, Hermione, yeah?" Harry said.

**Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch-this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen."**

"Can anyone else imagine Voldemort would have done this if he won?" Ginny asked.

Harry pursed his lips tightly as if he might suffocate.

"He didn't," Neville said roughly.

**To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others.**

"They should all tell the Capitol to shove their game up their arses," Ron exclaimed.

**The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.**

" **It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor.**

"How thick does the capitol think they are?" Neville asked to no one in particular. All anyone could do was shake their heads.

**Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In the seventy-four years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernanthy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very.**

"I think I would have to be," Harry injected quickly. The faintest trace of a smile was perched on Luna's face at his comment.

**The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.**

The tension in the room seemed to lighten a bit. Small chuckles were heard in the air from Ron, Harry and Neville.

**The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tried to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.**

**Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be** **_ever_ ** **in your favor!"**

"Honestly!" Ginny cut in. "How dim can she be?"

"Dunno what's happy about it," Neville said to her. He felt his food might reappear suddenly.

**Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off-center since her encounter with Haymitch. She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, although everyone knows she's just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation.**

"Well, there's a fair point," Harry said.

**Through the crowd, I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he's thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. "But there are still thousands of slips," I wish I could whisper to him.**

"She's too worried about her sister and best friend to even worry once for herself," Luna said stiffly, her gaze falling downward.

**It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names.**

"How _considerate_ ," Ginny said with a voice full of sarcasm.

**She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me.**

"We all hope not," Harry said unconvincingly.

"No, I don't think she will be," Luna whispered to herself so quietly, nobody in the room seemed to had heard.

**Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me.**

Harry, Ginny, Neville and Ron exhaled a breath they didn't know they were holding.

**It's Primrose Everdeen.**

The room suddenly broke into a blur of murmurs and outrage.

"oh, _no!"_

"Bloody hell."

"No way."

"Rotten luck."

"How very sad."

When the room seemed to calm, Hermione cleared her throat to gain her friend's attention.

"So how did you like chapter one?"

"Bloody suspenseful book. These muggles are mad," Neville spoke.

"Loads better than Spearshakes bloke," Ron said, looking at Hermione. She opened her mouth to correct him but, as if reading her thoughts, he flicked his hand back and forth in a disregarding motion. "Doesn't mean I'll read Hogwarts, A History, love."

"How do you think the author thought of the story?" Ginny asked.

"Hopefully not from experience," Harry said.

"I'd like to know what happens next," Luna said, the dreamy voice overtook her once more. "I think Katniss will somehow replace her."

"I say she grabs her sister, curses them into oblivion and runs to the woods," Ron joked. Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Gale gets chosen, too," Neville tossed into the theories.

"And he'll sacrifice himself to make sure she gets home to Katniss," Ginny said thoughtfully.

"Katniss starts a rebellion because of it," Hermione offered.

"Some giant man tells Katniss she's a witch and then curses the Captiol," Harry said with a sheepish grin.

Ron snorted at that. "Not your story, mate."

"Well, I'm famished," Neville said.

"Tomorrow morning, yeah?" Harry asked, rising to his feet.

"I'll have breakfast ready," Hermione said.

"Love you guys!" Hermione called as they all prepared to disapparate. Ron simply clapped them all on the shoulder, much to Ginny's annoyance. He did, however, offer Luna a brief hug.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione!" Ginny called, her voice booming through Hermione's ears from the distance. "Hermione, where's your waffle-headed husband?"

Hermione peeked through her tousled bed hair as she opened her eyes, and swept the hair from her face. She sat up, pulled the sheets off her body, and maneuvered herself until her toes touched the soft material of the carpet. She noticed her nightgown, scrunched up to her mid thighs, and did her best to pry it down. Her arms extended up, as she arched her back, moving her right hand over her mouth to stifle her yawn. Through heavy eyelids, she turned her head to the side table and squinted at the clock that rested there. It read 6:30 A.M.

A soft glow of misty blue streamed through the crack of her shutters, indicating early dawn. Heavy snores came from the spot beside her where Ron was still very much asleep. There was a tiny squeak of sound as the door opened and she saw Ginny's red hair peek through the doorway followed by her head. The gentle bluish hue of light from her wand filtered into the room. She noticed Ginny had her hand covering her eyes which were tightly squeezed shut.

Hermione released a silent chuckle that mostly sounded like a release of air. "Honestly, Ginny," she whispered. "You can look, you know!"

She saw bits of Ginny's eyes peek through the opened spaces of fingers. When she deemed it safe, she moved her hands from her face and let them dangle down her sides where they rocked back and forth. Walking further into the bedroom, she shot Hermione a cheeky grin. "Honestly, with you two I can never be sure. I was already scarred once." Her voice seemed to take a highly dramatic, shaky tone. "Never again," she finished and shivered, Hermione assumed, for dramatic effect.

"That was _ages_ ago," Hermione responded with an eye roll. "And in case you've forgotten," she rushed, "I'm eight months pregnant!"

"Yeah, well..." She trailed off with an innocent shrug of her shoulders. She stalked forward, seeming unconcerned with her brother being asleep on the bed. She offered Hermione her hand, and together they were able to pull Hermione to her feet.

"Is there a reason you're here at six-thirty in the morning?"

"I need your help," she muttered sheepishly. "And Lily woke me up, mind you. Harry said it's my turn to get up."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ginny as she led her through the hallway. "Harry nor Lily is here with you," she said, her voice rising higher with the last word like a question.

"Told him to sod off like the good husband he is. I'm always up with the kids, he's just being lazy, I suspect. But no one told him to stay up and argue with his rook over which was the best move."

Hermione laughed.

"Sorry, I know it's early," Ginny said with a guilty look. "I'll make you tea."

Ginny strolled to the wall and flicked the light switch up. "Genius, the muggles," she muttered under hear breath. "Nox."

Hermione sat herself down close to the armrest on the sofa. After a few minutes of clanking and bustling around in the kitchen, Ginny appeared before her with two mugs of steaming tea and set one down on the table in front of her. Hermione grabbed the mug and brought it near her lips, blowing on the hot liquid.

"So why do I have a waffle-headed husband?" Hermione asked in amusement.

"Because this-," she growled, lifting her jumper to reveal a bright orange shirt underneath. In the center in bold, black letters read, "Chudley Cannons forever" with a shadowed image of a man on a broomstick, three high hoops centered behind him printed on it. "-was my Holly Harpies shirt." She tugged her jumper back down, several inches of the orange still showing, and shoved herself back into the cushions with a defiant "hmpf." She crossed her arms so tightly around her chest, they appeared to be glued together.

Hermione suppressed her laugh, but from the quick glare Ginny shot at her, she must have noticed.

"It just looks like a simple glamour spell, maybe," Hermione said quickly. "It will most likely wear off in a few hours."

"Well, I don't like it, the sneaky git." Ginny spat out her words with defiance. Ginny ignored the look Hermione gave her, like she was making it into a big deal. "But it was my team shirt," she whined. "I played for them. It has sentimental value.

"I was just thinking about hexing him or returning the favor, but I reckon embarrassing him will be much more satisfying."

Hermione pursed her lips out and slightly rocked her head back and forth in sync with her eyes, as if weighing the options. She finally spoke. "So what do you have in mind?"

Hours later, when the sun had risen brightly in the sky and the morning air cooled the flat from the open windows, Harry and Ron had a feeble attempt preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Ginny cradled Lily in her arms as she fed her, hiding discreetly in the corner. Hermione held a pen in her hand as she scribbled a letter to Mrs. Weasley.

Through the fireplace emerged Luna and then Neville. Ron and Harry managed to serve a tasty breakfast of sausage, eggs, bacon and buttered toast with tea. After eating, the group settled in the front room. Ginny laid Lily to sleep in Rose's old cradle in the spare bedroom.

Hermione gripped the book with gentle fingers and thumbed through the pages. She cleared her throat about to begin when Luna's soft voice spoke up.

"Do you mind if I read this chapter?"

Hermione smiled at her and leaned forward, handing the book over. "Not at all, Luna."

**One time, when I was in a blind tree, waiting motionless for game to wander by, I dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground, landing on my back.**

"Sounds bloody painful," Ron said, his face wrinkling into a grimace.

"It _is_ bloody painful," Harry added. "Like falling off your broom."

**It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs, and I lay there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything.**

**That's how I feel now, trying to remember how to breathe, unable to speak, totally stunned as the name bounced around the inside of my skull.**

Luna stopped reading and glanced up from the book. Everyone's faces were masked with hints of sympathy and sadness.

"That's how I felt," Luna said softly, "when Voldemort said you were dead, Harry." She frowned and her blue eyes seemed to be slightly glossy. Harry looked at her with concern. "I know it was ages ago, but it still makes me quite sad to remember that moment. You were one of my first friends."

Neville nodded his head solemnly where he sat beside her.

"All worked out in the end, mate." Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Couldn't get rid of you that easy."

"You're bloody well right," Harry said.

**Someone is gripping my arm, a boy from the Seam, and I think maybe I started to fall and he caught me.**

**There must have been some mistake. This can't be happening. Prim was one slip of papers in thousands! Her chances of being chosen so remote that I'd not even bothered to worry about her. Hadn't I done everything? Taken the tesserae, refused to let her do the same? One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.**

**Somewhere far away, I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve-year-old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair.**

"None of it is fair!" Hermione spat out.

**And then I see her, the blood drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides, walking with stiff, small steps up toward the stage, passing me, and I see the back of her blouse has become untucked and hangs out over her skirt. It's this detail, the untucked blouse forming a ducktail, that brings me back to myself.**

" **Prim!" The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles begin to move again. "Prim!" I don't need to shove through the crowd. The other kids make way immediately allowing me a straight path to the stage. I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps. With one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me.**

" **I volunteer!" I gasp. "I volunteer as tribute!"**

"Seems you were right, Luna," Harry said in a flat tone.

"It was most fitting for her character," Luna stated simply.

"Yes. Seems obvious now. She'd do anything to protect her little sister," Ginny agreed.

"Let's see if she's able to," Ron said hurriedly.

**There's some confusion on the stage. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has become rusty. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy's name has been read, or a girl, if a girl's name has been read, can step forward to take his or her place. In some districts, in which winning the reaping is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated.**

"They're mad, they are," Neville said aghast, shaking his head with a scowl on his face.

**But in district 12, where the word** **_tribute_ ** **is pretty much synonymous with the word** **_corpse_ ** **, volunteers are all but extinct.**

" **Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." she trails off, unsure of herself.**

"You can't curse a character in a book, can you?" Ginny asked to no one in particular with an aggravated eyeroll.

"Unfortunately not," Hermione said. "I'd just silence her if I could."

" **What does it matter?" says the mayor. He's looking at me with a pained expression on his face. He doesn't know me really, but there's a faint recognition there. I am the girl who brings the strawberries. The girl his daughter might have spoken of on occasion. The girl who five years ago stood huddled with her mother and sister, as he presented her, the oldest child, with a medal of valor. A medal for her father, vaporized in the mines. Does her remember that? "What does it matter?" he repeats gruffly. "Let her come forward."**

**Prim is screaming hysterically behind me. She's wrapped her skinny arms around me like a vice. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"**

"This novel's a cheerful one," Ron said sarcastically with a grim look on his face.

" **Prim, let go," I say harshly, because this is upsetting me and I don't want to cry. When they televise the replay of the reapings tonight, everyone will make note of my tears, and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction. "Let go!"**

Ginny groaned loudly at that. "I'd forgotten the whole country would be watching her."

"She's quite practical," Hermione said.

**I can feel someone pulling her from my back. I turn and see Gale has lifted Prim off the ground and she's thrashing in his arms. "Up you go, Catnip," he says, in a voice he's fighting to keep steady, and then he carries Prim off toward my mother. I steel myself and climb the steps.**

" **Well, bravo!" gushes Effie Trinket. "That's the spirit of the Games!" She's pleased to finally have a district with a little action going on in it.**

"And you said I had the emotional range of a teaspoon!" Ron said to Hermione, slightly bumping her shoulder with his own playfully.

"Well you did when we were children, at times," she responded.

" **What's your name?"**

**I swallow hard. "Katniss Everdeen," I say.**

" **I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket.**

"Oh, sod off Effie," Neville mumbled.

**To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or knew my father, or have encountered Prim, who no one can help loving. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong.**

**Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.**

"What an interesting gesture. Do all muggles in America do this, Hermione?" Luna asked.

"I don't think so. It must be something the author created."

"I don't know if it's good they care or bad that everyone knows she's going to die," Harry said glumly.

"Maybe a bit of both," Neville responded with a sigh.

**Now I am truly in danger of crying, but fortunately Haymitch chooses this time to come staggering across the stage to congratulate me. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing an arm around my shoulders. He's surprisingly strong for such a wreck. "I like her!" His breath reeks of liquor and it's been a long time since he's bathed. "Lot's of..." He can't think of the word for a while. "Spunk!" he says triumphantly. "More than you!" he releases me and starts for the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing directly into a camera.**

**Is he addressing the audience or is he so drunk he might actually be taunting the Capitol? I'll never know because just as he's opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.**

"He's barking!" Harry shouted, his lips curling into a grin. Ron chuckled to himself which quickly spiraled out of control. The tension in the room seemed to break suddenly as the group broke out in laughter. Luna gripped her side, inhaling deeply for air.

"Not exactly gracious, is he?" Ron said, regaining his composure.

**He's disgusting, but I'm grateful. With every camera gleefully trained on him, I have just enough time to release a small, choked sound in my throat and compose myself. I put my hands behind my back and stare into the distance. I can see the hills I climbed this morning with Gale. For a moment, I yearn for something...the idea of us leaving the district...making our way in the woods..but I know I was right about not running off. Because who else would have volunteered for Prim?**

**Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket is trying to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbles as she attempts to straighten her wig, which has listed severely to the right. "But more excitement to come! It's about time to choose our boy tribute!"**

"How can she be so bloody cheerful doing something like that?" Ron asked.

"I suspect it could be how she was raised," Hermione said in a half-hearted manner.

**Clearly hoping to contain her tenuous hair situation, she plants one hand on her head as she crosses to the ball that contains the boys' names and grabs the first slip she encounters. She zips back to the podium, and I don't even have time to wish for Gale's safety when she's reading the name. "Peeta Mellark."**

**Peeta Mellark!**

**_Oh, no_ ** **, I think.** **_Not him._ **

"Who is this bloke?" Neville asked.

Ginny shook her head at his question. "She's not pleased."

**Because I recognize this name, although I have never spoken directly to its owner. Peeta Mellark.**

**No, the odds are not in my favor today.**

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow as Luna read the last sentence, but said nothing.

**I watch him as he makes his way toward the stage. Medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I've seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place.**

**Effie Trinket asks for volunteers, but no one steps forward. He has two older brothers, I know, I've seen them in the bakery, but one is probably too old now to volunteer and the other won't. This is standard. Family devotion only goes so far for most people on reaping day. What I did was a radical thing.**

"That's incredibly depressing," Luna said with a frown.

Ron wondered if one of his brothers would step forward to take his place. The thought unsettled his stomach. He decided her wouldn't want any of them to if something like that happened. He asked Luna to continue.

**The mayor begins to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point—it's required—but I'm not listening to a word.**

**_Why him_ ** **? I think. Then I try to convince myself it doesn't matter.**

"Sounds like someone might fancy him," Ginny laughed.

"It could very well be a number of things, not necessarily a cr-" Hermione blurted in her know-it-all tone.

"Oh, _please_ , Hermione," Harry interrupted. "After watching you two dance around your feelings for each other in self-denial..." He trailed off, shaking his head violently. "Years, I had to deal with it."

"Years, we all had to hear you two have a go in the common room," Neville added.

"I think there might be something there eventually," Harry finished.

Hermione blushed a deep scarlet color and the tips of Ron's ears looked slightly pinkish. "We weren't that bad," Ron insisted.

"But you were," Ginny said calmly. "We had bets on when you two would stop denying it and get together."

"Really, now?" Hermione asked. Her lips seems to just barely twitch upward.

"Who won?" Ron asked eagerly.

"I did," Luna spoke, eyes wide with joy. "I always knew you two are destined to be together. But I thought it might take a life-or-death situation to be very forward. You're both quite stubborn."

Hermione cleared her throat louder than necessary. Memories of panic and Ron mentioning the house elves clouded her mind. It was life or death and it was beautiful. She and Ron got life together, but Remus and Tonks...her dear old friends got death. Hermione inhaled and forced her lips in a smile. "Let's continue, shall we?"

**Peeta Mellark and I are not friends. Not even neighbors. We don't speak. Our only real interaction happened years ago. He's probably forgotten it. But I haven't and I know I never will...**

"Now we'll find out!" Ginny squealed. She took Harry's hand in her own, winking at him, and lodged herself on the edge of the sofa.

**It was during the worst time. My father had been killed in the mine accident three months earlier in the bitterest January anyone could remember. The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs.** **_Where are you_ ** **? I would cry out in my mind.** **_Where have you gone_ ** **? Of course, there was never any answer.**

**The district had given us a small amount of money as compensation for his death, enough to cover one month of grieving at which time my mother would be expected to get a job. Only she didn't. She didn't do anything but sit propped up in a chair or, more often, huddled under the blankets on her bed, eyes fixed on some point in the distance.**

" _That's how mum was after Fred_ ," Ginny thought sadly. She now knew that no amount of crying or begging would bring her brother back. It had been nearly ten years, but there was still times when she would be telling a story of her childhood and Fred's name would spill out of her mouth, then she'd be silenced into sadness. Or she would see George in the middle of conversation, he'd be joking and she would catch his head turn just slightly as if trying to share the moment with his twin, before he remembered he was not there. Sometimes it still made her heart feel like it's aching. She didn't think that feeling would ever fully disappear.

**Once in a while, she'd stir, get up as if moved by some urgent purpose, only to then collapse back into stillness. No amount of pleading from Prim seemed to affect her.**

**I was terrified. I suppose now that my mother was locked in some dark world of sadness, but at the time, all I knew was that I had lost not only a father, but a mother as well.**

Neville and Harry looked affected by the last sentence as Luna read it. They both looked up from their hands and caught each other's eyes for just a second, but then looked away as if the silent communication caused physical pain.

**At eleven years old, with Prim just seven, I took over as head of the family. There was no choice. I bought our food at the market and cooked it as best I could and tried to keep Prim and myself looking presentable. Because if it had become known that my mother could no longer care for us, the district would have taken us away from her and placed us in a community home. I'd grown up seeing those home kids at school. The sadness, the marks of angry hands on their faces, the hopelessness that curled their shoulders. I could never let that happen to Prim. Sweet, tiny Prim who cried when I cried before she even knew the reason, who brushed and plaited my mother's hair before we left to school, who still polished my father's shaving mirror each night because he'd hated the layer or coal dust that settled on everything in the Seam. The community home would crush her like a bug. So I kept our predicament a secret.**

The faint lines on Harry's face seemed to deepen as the frown bore into his skin. "What a shit life. Poor girl," Harry said gently. "At eleven!"

"Well yours wasn't exactly a fly around the quidditch pitch, was it?" Ron said. "Living with the Dursley's, being lied to about your parents..."

"Maybe I was neglected but I didn't have to have the burden of my family on my shoulders."

"Cooking and cleaning like a house-elf," Hermione injected fiercely. "Threatened days without food!"

"Yeah, chores, but I didn't actually have to worry about providing the food or starving."

"Fluffy blocking the trap door," Hermione continued as if Harry hadn't spoken.

"That _thing_ had a name?" Neville injected abruptly.

"Hagrid," Ron muttered to him. "And Voldemort trying to kill you."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said exasperated. "But I also made my first friends ever, I learned the real truth, I went to Hogwarts, I was the youngest bloody quidditch seeker in a century!"

"It's good you're an optimist, Harry," Luna said cheerfully.

"Er, right. Thanks, Luna." Harry took a deep sigh and gestured toward the book in her hands. "Shall we?"

**But the money ran out and we were slowly starving to death. There's no other way to put it. I kept telling myself if I could only hold out until May, just May 8, and I would turn twelve and be able to sign up for the tesserae and get that precious grain and oil to feed us. Only there were still several weeks to go. We could well be dead by then.**

"Unpleasant thought for an eleven-year-old," Neville released a soft whistle, shaking his head.

"For anyone, really," Ron added.

**Starvation's not an uncommon fate in District 12. Who hasn't seen the victims? Older people who can't work. Children from a family with too many to feed. Those injured in the mines. Straggling through the streets. And one day, you come upon them sitting motionless against a wall or lying in the Meadow, you hear the wails from a house, and the Peacekeepers are called in to retrieve the body. Starvation is never the cause of death officially. It's always the flu, or exposure, or pneumonia. But that fools no one.**

"Like the stories the muggle news said as a cover-up for Voldemort's murders," Harry said darkly.

**On the afternoon of my encounter with Peeta Mellark, the rain was falling in relentless icy sheets. I had been in town, trying to trade some threadbare old baby clothes of Prim's in the public market, but there were no takers. Although I had been to the Hob on several occasions with my father, I was too frightened to venture into that rough, gritty place alone. The rain had soaked through my father's hunting jacket, leaving me chilled to the bone. For three days, we'd had nothing but boiled water with some old dried mint leaves I'd found in the back of the cupboard. By the time the market closed, I was shaking so hard I dropped my bundle of baby clothes in a mud puddle. I didn't pick it up for fear I would keel over and be unable to regain my feet. Besides, no one wanted those clothes.**

**I couldn't go home. Because at home was my mother and her dead eyes and my little sister, with her hollow cheeks and cracked lips. I couldn't walk into that room with the smoky fire from the damp branches I had scavenged at the edge of the woods after the coal had run out, my hands empty of any hope.**

"Hope is possibly the worst thing to lose," Neville said so softly, it sounded almost like a whisper.

"It is, mate," Ron muttered.

"It was the only thing that kept the DA going at Hogwarts," Luna said.

"That Harry was still alive and we could still win," Ginny nodded.

**I found myself stumbling along a muddy lane behind the shops that serve the wealthiest townspeople. The merchants live above their businesses, so I was essentially in their backyards. I remember the outlines of garden beds not yet planted for the spring, a goat or two in a pen, one sodden dog tied to a post, hunched defeated in the muck.**

**All forms of stealing are forbidden in District 12. Punishable by death. But it crossed my mind that there might be something in the trash bins, and those were fair game. Perhaps a bone at the butcher's or rotted vegetables at the grocer's, something no one by my family was desperate enough to eat. Unfortunately, the bins had just been emptied.**

"I always envied other people growing up," Ron said, "but now I don't think I've ever felt more thankful that at least we were all fed."

"Someone always has it worse," Ginny said softly.

**When I passed the baker's, the smell of fresh bread was so overwhelming I felt dizzy. The oven were in the back, and a golden glow spilled out the open kitchen door. I stood mesmerized but the heat and the luscious scent until the rain interfered, running its icy fingers down my back, forcing me back to life. I lifted the lid to the baker's trash bin and found it spotlessly, heartlessly bare.**

**Suddenly a voice was screaming at me and I looked up to see the baker's wife, telling me to move on and did I want her to call the Peacekeepers and how sick she was of having those brats from the Seam pawing through her trash.**

"Lovely woman," Neville grumbled irritatedly.

**The words were ugly and I had no defense. As I carefully replaced the lid and backed away, I noticed him, a boy with blond hair peering out from behind his mother's back. I'd seen him at school. He was in my year, but I didn't know his name. He stuck with the town kids, so how would I? His mother went back into the bakery, grumbling, but he must have been watching me as I made my way behind the pen that held their pig and leaned against the far side of an old apple tree. The realization that I'd have nothing to take home had finally sunk in. My knees buckled and I slid down the tree trunk to its roots. It was too much. I was too sick and weak and tired, oh, so tired.** **_Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home_ ** **, I thought.** **_Or better yet, let me died right here in the rain_ ** **.**

"This story is terribly sad," Luna said as she stopped reading. She looked at the book with wide eyes and displeasure on her face. She took a deep breath and continued before anyone could speak.

**There was a clatter in the bakery and I heard the woman screaming again and the sound of a blow, and I vaguely wondered what was going on. Feet sloshed toward me through the mud and I thought,** **_It's her_ ** **.** **_She's coming to drive me away with a stick_ ** **. But it wasn't her. It was the boy. In his arms, he carried two large loaves of bread that must have fallen into the fire because the crusts were scorched black.**

**His mother was yelling, "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"**

"Merlin, to her own son!" Neville gasped.

Ginny grumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'bitch.'

**He began to tear off chunks from the burned bread parts and toss them into the trough, and the front bakery bell rung and the mother disappeared to help a customer.**

**The boy never even glanced my way, but I was watching him. Because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood out on his cheekbone. What had she hit him with? My parents never hit us. I couldn't even imagine it.**

"What a horrible b-" Hermione started, and looked down at her belly, putting her hands over it as if blocking the baby's ears. "- _witch_ ," she whispered harshly.

"There's a lack of dependable parents so far," Harry said.

**The boy took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then, his attention back on the pig, he threw a loaf of bread in my direction. The second quickly followed, and he sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly behind him.**

"He-he saved her from starving?" Ginny asked unsure of herself.

"It certainly seems that way," Hermione responded almost like a question.

**I stared at the loaves in disbelief. They were fine, perfect really, except the burned areas. Did he mean for me to have them?**

"Yes," Harry whispered under his breath.

**He must have. Because they were at my feet. Before anyone could witness what had happened I shoved the loaves up under my shirt, wrapped the hunting jacket tightly about me, and walked swiftly away. The heart of the bread burned my skin, but I clutched it tighter, clinging to life.**

"Quite literally," Ron said.

**By the time I reached home, the loaves had cooled somewhat, but the insides were still warm. When I dropped them on the table, Prim's hands reached to tear off a chunk, but I made her sit, forced my mother to join us at the table, and poured warm tea. I scraped off the black stuff and sliced the bread. We ate an entire loaf, slice by slice. It was good, hearty bread, filled with raisins and nuts.**

**I put my clothes to dry at the fire, crawled into bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep. It didn't occur to me until the next morning that the boy might have burned the bread on purpose. Might have dropped the loaves into the flames, knowing it meant being punished, and then delivered them to me.**

"That's awfully nice for someone you don't know," Neville said.

"Well, she was starving, wasn't she?" Harry said. "I think any of us would have done the same."

"And now she has to go to the Games with the bloke who saved her life," Ron said word-by-word as if clicking the situation into place as he said it. His face sunk into sympathy.

**But I dismissed this.**

"'Course you do. Stubborn, this one. Isn't she?" Ron said almost fondly.

"Certainly seems so," Neville said in amusement, directing his gaze at Hermione. "Remind you of someone, Ron?"

Ron rose his eyebrows and squinted his eyes in confusion. "Er...?" was his only response.

**It must have been an accident. Why would he have done it? He didn't even know me. Still, just throwing me the bread was an enormous kindness that would have surely resulted in a beating if discovered. I couldn't explain his actions.**

_Maybe he fancies you_ , Harry thought.

**We ate slices of bread for breakfast and headed to school. It was as if spring had come overnight. Warm, sweet air. Fluffy clouds. I passed the boy in the hall, his cheek had swelled up and his eye had blackened. He was with his friends and didn't acknowledge me in any way. But as I collected Prim and started for home that afternoon, I found him staring at me from across the school yard. Our eyes met for only a second, then he turned his head away. I dropped my gaze, embarrassed, and that's when I saw it. The first dandelion of the year. A bell went off in my head. I thought of the hours spent in the woods with my father and I knew how we were going to survive.**

"Wow," Luna said in amazement. "He gave her more than bread."

"What do you mean, Luna?" Ginny asked, looking to the others for clarification in case she was the only one not understanding. Their slightly confused faces, looking as if they were searching their brains informed her she hadn't. Suddenly, a light seemed to spark up in Hermione's head as she made a squeal of sound and sat up higher.

"He gave her hope," she said.

**To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.**

"This is such a horrible situation to be put in," Ginny said, her voice cold like ice.

"I reckon she won't have it in her to kill him herself," Ron sighed.

**I have turned in the school hallway and caught his eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit them away. I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I'd be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we're going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.**

"Quite morbid," Neville said to the book.

**The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are solid and warm as those loaves of bread. Peeta looks me right in the eye and give my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.**

"She's very much in denial," Hermione said with a small chuckle.

**We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem plays.**

_**Oh, well** _ **, I think.** **_There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do._ **

**Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.**

"That's the end of the chapter," Luna said as she set the book down on the side table.

"I hope that last bit wasn't foreshadowing of some sort," Hermione said, fumbling with her fingers and biting the corner of her bottom lip.

"This book has managed to only get more depressing," Harry said flatly.

"Do you think she might die?" Ron asked, an edge of apprehension in his voice.

"Dunno, mate," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Let's keep reading."


	4. Chapter 4

"I'll read, Luna," Neville said. "Give your voice a break." Luna perched her back up straighter and her mood seemed to lighten considerably as she turned to Neville, who sat beside her, and placed the book in his hand.

"Thank you, Neville. That's very kind of you," said said as she lifted her legs to the cushions of the sofa and curled them to her side, facing Neville.

Neville gripped the book and sat it on his lap. Turning his head down, Neville opened the book to the proper page. Just as Neville was about to speak, Ron's voice asked, "More tea anyone?"

"Sure, Ron. Thanks, mate," said Neville.

"Sounds lovely," Luna said.

Ginny crossed her arms and shot him a glare and the faintest hint of a smile traced on his face before he turned away from her. Harry looked at his wife, then to Ron and lifted himself up.

"Cheers, mate. I'll help," Harry said. He bent down and gave Ginny a peck on her cheek, whose face softened a bit.

Harry trailed after Ron into the kitchen where he filled a kettle with water. Harry leaned casually against the counter and pointed his wand toward the stove. " _Incendio,_ " he muttered under his breath, and a small flame lit up a spot on the stove top. Ron placed the kettle there and stood in front of Harry.

Harry leaned in closer to Ron, and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "What did you do to her?"

Ron gave Harry a cheeky, closed-lip smile before answering. "Just a bit of payback."

"For...?"

"Last month, don't you remember?" Ron asked. Harry briefly recalled a memory of he and Ron de-gnoming the garden at the Burrow for the Weasleys when a gnome Ron grabbed changed into a spider in his hand. Ron had chucked it far away from him and ran in the opposite direction when he saw Ginny laughing with George near the house. His ears were  red from either anger or embarrassment, Harry wasn't sure.

Harry did his best to hide his chuckle with a cough, but from the hardened look on Ron's face, he seemed to have heard. "Honestly, Ron I heard it was George's idea."

"All the same," Ron said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"What did you do? She was not too pleased when she left this morning."

"Turned her Holly Harpie's team shirt to a Chudley Cannon one—don't worry, it'll change back soon. I'm not daft," he said when Harry's eyes bulged open wide and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"Better hope so," Harry said, "I can sense her conspiring against you from in here." If Ron was the least bit concerned by Harry's warning, he didn't show it. Turning toward to stove, where the water was boiling, he set the tea to brew. After a few more minutes he and Harry were returning to the sitting room, carefully hovering three tea cups each before themselves.

They re-positioned themselves on their seat, and indicated for Neville to read.

**The moment the anthem ends, we are taken into custody. I don't mean we're handcuffed or anything, but a group of Peacekeepers marches us through the front door of the Justice Building. Maybe tributes have tried to escape in the past. I've never seen that happen though.**

**Once inside, I'm conducted to a room and left alone. It's the richest place I've ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. I know velvet because my mother had a dress with a collar made of the stuff. When I sit on the couch, I can't help running my fingers over the fabric repeatedly. It helps to calm me as I try to prepare for the next hour. The time allotted for the tributes to say good-bye to their loved ones. I cannot afford to get upset, to leave this room with puffy eyes and a red nose. Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.**

"Too bad she doesn't have magic," Neville said. "She could just apparate away."

"Rotten luck," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I think we'd have a very short book, then," said Ginny.

**My sister and my mother come first. I reach out to Prim and she climbs on my lap, her arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just like she did when she was a toddler. My mother sits beside me and wraps her arms around us. For a few minutes, we say nothing. Then I start telling them all the things they must remember to do, now that I will not be there to do them for them.**

"I do hope that won't be the last time they are together," Luna said, placing her hands on her lap. "As a family. That would be dreadful."

"Too true, Luna," Hermione responded, wondering if her friend was thinking about her own mother.

**Prim is not to take any tesserae. They can get by, if they're careful, on selling Prim's goat milk and cheese and the small apothecary business my mother now runs for the people in the Seam. Gale will get her the herbs she doesn't grow herself, but she must be very careful to describe them because he's not as familiar with them as I am. He'll also bring them game—he and I made a pact about this a year or so ago—and will probably not ask for compensation, but they should thank him with some kind of trade, like milk or medicine.**

Ron frowned at that as he wondered how different his life would be like if his family lived there. They would probably have starved by then, with all his siblings.

**I don't bother suggesting Prim learn to hunt. I tried to teach her a couple of times and it was disastrous. The woods terrified her, and whenever I shot something, she'd get teary and talk about how we might be able to heal it if we got it home soon enough.**

"Sounds like you, Hermione," Ron said, nudging her softly with his shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Honestly, Ron, the circumstances are completely different," she said.

**But she makes out well with her goat, so I concentrate on that.**

**When I am done with instructions about food, and trading, and staying in school, I turn to my mother and grip her arm, hard. "Listen to me. Are you listening to me?" She nods, alarmed by my intensity. She must know what's coming. "You can't leave again," I say.**

**My mother's eyes find the floor. "I know. I won't. I couldn't help what-"**

" **Well, you have to help it this time. You can't clock out and leave Prim on her own. There's no me now to keep you both alive. It doesn't matter what happens. Whatever you see on the screen. You have to promise me you'll fight through it!" My voice had risen to a shout. In it is all the anger, all the fear I felt at her abandonment.**

"Katniss would make a good mother," Luna said. She thought about how Katniss was very authorative but very protective of her younger sister. She was a natural mother, but didn't even know it because of the life she'd had to live.

"Except she doesn't ever want kids," Neville grumbled. "But I reckon she would if she had a normal life."

"I expect you'd be a wonderful father, Neville," Luna told him fondly. "I'm so pleased you're training to be a professor!"

Neville blushed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "I-er..Hannah and I-we're not yet..." he trailed off. "uhm, thank you, Luna."

She beamed at him, and Neville composed himself before continuing reading.

**She pulls her arm from my grasp, moved to anger herself now. "I was ill. I could have treated myself if I'd had the medicine I have now."**

**The part about her being ill might be true. I've seen her bring back people suffering from immobilizing sadness since. Perhaps it is a sickness, but it's one we can't afford.**

" **Then take it. And take care of her!" I say.**

" **I'll be all right, Katniss," says Prim, clasping my face in her hands. "But you have to take care, too. You're so fast and brave. Maybe you can win."**

"She's the sweetest little sister," Ginny said.

"I agree," Ron said, directing it at her. Hermione slapped his arm, " _Ron!_ " she whispered under her breath. Ginny pretended she hadn't heard him, unaffected by his statement.

**I can't win. Prim must know that in her heart. The competition will be far beyond my abilities. Kids from wealthier districts, where winning is a huge honor, who've been trained their whole lives for this. Boys who are two to three times my size. Girls who know twenty different ways to kill you with a knife. Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins.**

"Aw, don't count yourself out yet," Harry said as if Katniss could hear him.

"How unfair. Some kids train their whole lives..." Ron said.

"So _corrupt_. Everything about it. I expect we'll read about the Capitol soon," Hermione added briskly.

" **Maybe," I say, because I can hardly tell my mother to carry on if I've already given up myself.**

"Good point," Neville said, looking up from the book.

**Besides, it isn't in my nature to go down without a fight, even when things seem insurmountable. "Then we'd be rich as Haymitch."**

**"I don't care if we're rich. I just want you to come home. You will try, won't you? Really, really try?" asks Prim.**

"She'll really, really try," Luna said defiantly with a nod of her head.

" **Really, really try. I swear it," I say. And I know, because of Prim, I'll have to.**

**And then the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is "I love you. I love you both." And they're saying it back and then the Peacekeeper orders them out and the door closes. I bury my head in one of the velvet pillows as if this can block the whole thing out.**

**Someone else enters the room, and when I look up, I'm surprised to see it's the baker, Peeta Mellark's father. I can't believe he's come to visit me.**

"Nor can I," Harry said. "Wasn't expecting that."

**After all, I'll be trying to kill his son soon.**

"No, you won't," Ginny mumbled under her breath. She'd be honestly shocked if Katniss wound up killing Peeta herself. Even in the first chapters in the book, Ginny thought Katniss would not be able to forget Peeta helping her when she was starving.

"That'd be a twisted ending if she does," Ron said. "I bet he'll die from her."

"I'll take you on that, Ron," Ginny said.

"What are we betting?" Ron asked. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees as he eyed Ginny suspiciously.

Ginny looked at Hermione, who stifled her laugh with her hand, and smirked. "Only your dignity."

**But we do know each other a bit, and he knows Prim even better. When she sells her goat cheeses at the Hob, she puts two of them aside for him and he gives her a generous amount of bread in return. We always wait to trade with him when his witch of a wife isn't around because he's so much nicer. I feel certain he would never have hit his son the way she did over the burned bread. But why has he come to see me?**

"Any guesses?" Neville asked as he looked up from the book. He extended his shoulders and neck back, stretching them before letting his torso fall back into the cushions. "I think he'll tell her something about Peeta," Neville added, bending his left knee to rest atop the left, which reached the floor.

"Maybe he'll ask a favor?" Ginny said. "Ask to look out after his son as long as possible?"

"Maybe reveal a bit of information he's always wanted to tell her," Hermione shrugged. "He is awfully generous with the trades."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to see kids starve, like the good bloke he is," Ron said.

"Perhaps he doesn't want to see those two in particular starve," Luna added, whose face was happy of amusement. She was sitting so close to the edge of the sofa, she looked like she might fall off it, but she didn't seem to pay that any mind.

**The baker sits awkwardly on the edge of one of the plush chairs. He's a big, broad-shouldered man with burn scars from years at the ovens. He must have just said good-bye to his son.**

**He pulls a white paper package from his jacket pocket and holds it out to me. I open it and find cookies. These are a luxury we can never afford.**

Ron looked at Hermione, who was nestled in her chair, one hand on her tummy, one hand on top of Ron's. "What's a cookie again?" he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips together for a second, as if surfacing the information to her brain. "I believe the American equivalent to a biscuit."

"Is there anything you don't know, Hermione?" Harry asked, a smile tracing his lips.

"Quite a bit. I really should study more American literature," she said. "I hear the Salem Witch Institute has an amazing library collection." Hermione's perked up in her seat at the thought.

"I'll make sure to find out more from Kingsley when I go into work. See if there's a floo network connected or something," Ron said to her.

Hermione beamed at him, and thanked him with a lingering kiss on the cheek.

" **Thank you," I say. The baker's not a very talkative man in the best of times, and today he has no words at all. "I had some of your bread this morning. My friend Gale gave you a squirrel for it." He nods, as if remembering the squirrel. "Not your best trade," I say. He shrugs as if it couldn't possibly matter.**

**Then I can't think of anything else, so we sit in silence until a Peacekeeper summons him. He rises and coughs to clear his throat. "I'll keep and eye on the little girl. Make sure she's eating."**

"He is fond of them," Ginny cooed.

**I feel some of the pressure in my chest lighten at his words. People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.**

**My next guest is also unexpected. Madge walks straight to me. She is not weepy or evasive, instead there's an urgency about her tone that surprises me. "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" She holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier. I hadn't paid much attention to it before, but now I see it's a small bird in flight.**

" **Your pin?" I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind.**

"What's so important about a gold pin?" Harry asked to no one in particular.

"No idea. It's from her district," Ron said.

"Yeah, but the girl, Madge, is it? She's adamant that Katniss take it, like it's urgent."

"Maybe it is then," Ginny said.

" **Here, I'll put it on your dress, all right?" Madge doesn't wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird to my dress. "Promise you'll wear it into the arena, Katniss?" she asks. "Promise?"**

"It certainly seems important...or the girl just knows there isn't much time," Hermione said.

" **Yes," I say. Cookies. A pin. I'm getting all kinds of gifts today. Madge gives me one more. A kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone and I'm left thinking that maybe Madge really had been my friend all along.**

"She is your friend," Luna said. "Unfortunate she didn't realize that sooner." Luna looked around the room and was inflated with gratitude. She hoped she would never have to part with her friends again, not knowing if she would see them again.

Ginny, who was her first friend. She had been so kind when everyone else wouldn't speak to her. Harry was the first person to really understand her. She had found Ron funny and amusing since they first met. Hermione took more time to warm up to her since they were so different, but Luna always admired the girl's intelligence. Finally, Neville, who Luna became closest to since the war. Luna thought his loyalty and kindness rare and he always listened to her stories about creatures she believed existed in the world, even if she might be the only one to believe it.

**Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don't hesitate to go into them. His body is familiar to me—the way it moves, the smell of wood smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moment on a hunt—but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own.**

"There could be some romance between them if she goes home," Ginny said.

"I think they're just really close friends," Hermione responded.

"Did you just hear that passage?" Ginny asked with a laugh. "She's nearly feeling him up!"

"It's more of memorizing him because he's so familiar to her," Hermione said defiantly. "I think it's perfectly acceptable to do when she thinks she'll never see her friend again."

"You know this isn't you and Harry, right?" Ginny said.

"Well aware, Ginny," Hermione said. They both stared at one another, with serious looks on their faces. The faintest trace of a smile was hinted on Ginny's face and suddenly both girls began laughing softly.

Harry and Ron looked at one another, amused smiles and gently shaking their heads. Ron mouthed to him what looked like "women."

" **Listen," he says. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."**

" **They don't always have bows," I say, thinking of a year there were only horrible spiked maces that the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death with.**

"That," Hermione said, her voice full of venom, "is barbaric."

" **Then make one," says Gale. "Even a weak bow is better than now bow at all."**

**I have tried copying my father's bows with poor results. It's not that easy. Even he had to scrap his own work sometimes.**

" **I don't even know if there'll be wood," I say. Another year, they tossed everybody into a landscape of nothing but boulders and sand and scruffy bushes. I particularly hated that year. Many contestants were bitten my venomous snakes or went insane from thirst.**

"That's cheerful," Neville said, scowling at the book before he continued.

" **There's almost always wood," Gale says. "Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that."**

"What a shame," Harry said, his voice dripping of sarcasm. Ginny laughed and then frowned at the thought.

**It's true. We spent one Hunger Games watching the players freeze to death at night. You could hardly see them because they were just huddled in balls and had no wood for fires or torches or anything. It was considered very anticlimactic in the Capitol, all those quiet, bloodless deaths. Since then there's usually been wood to make fires.**

"It's all the worse that it's seen as entertainment," Ginny said.

" **Yes, there's usually some," I say.**

" **Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know," says Gale.**

" **It not just hunting. They're armed. They think," I say.**

" **So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice," he says. "You know how to kill."**

" **Not people," I say.**

"Do you think she'll have to kill?" Neville asked.

Hermione hesitated. "I don't think she can avoid it if she wants to get get home."

"Kill or be killed, I suppose," Ron said.

"I think only if she's threatened first," Luna responded.

" **How different can it be, really?" says Gale grimly.**

"Loads different," Harry said in a grim tone.

**The awful thing is that if I can forget they're people, it will be no different at all.**

"How you feel after will be," Ron said.

**The Peacekeepers are back too soon and Gale asks for more time, but they're taking him away and I start to panic. "Don't let them starve!" I cry out, clinging to his hand.**

" **I won't! You know I won't! Katniss, remember I-" he says, and they yank us apart and slam the door and I'll never know what it was he wanted me to remember.**

"What do you reckon he was saying?" Neville asked.

"I love you?" Ginny offered with a wide grin.

"I would bet on you," Harry said.

"I..er consider them family," Ron said in a tone that sounded more like a question than an answer.

"I think he wanted to say that he would see her soon," Luna said as she crossed her legs in front of her.

**It's a short ride from the Justice Building to the train station. I've never been in a car before. Rarely even ridden in wagons. In the Seam, we travel on foot.**

**I've been right not to cry. The station is swarming with reporters with their insectlike cameras trained directly on my face. But I've had a lot of practice at wiping my face clean of emotions and I do this now. I catch a glimpse of myself on the television screen on the wall that's airing my arrival live and feel gratified that I appear almost bored.**

**Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, has obviously been crying and interestingly enough does not seem to be trying to cover it up. I immediately wonder if this will be his strategy in the Games. To appear weak and frightened, to reassure the other tributes that he is no competition at all, and then come out fighting.**

"I doubt that," Neville spoke with his face still hidden behind the book.

"She might be a bit paranoid," Ron said.

"Who wouldn't be?" Ginny said.

**This worked well for a girl, Johanna Mason, from District 7 a few years back. She seemed like such a sniveling, cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until there were only a handful of contestant left. It turned out she could kill viciously. Pretty clever, the way she played it. But this seems an odd strategy for Peeta Mellark because he's a baker's son. All those years of having enough to eat and hauling bread trays around have made him broad-shouldered and strong. It will take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him.**

"That is quite clever of a strategy, though I don't believe that's what he is doing," Hermione said, bringing her cup of tea to her lips and sipping it.

**We have to stand for a few minutes in the doorway of the train while the cameras gobble up our images, then we're allowed inside and the doors close mercifully behind us. The train begins to move at once.**

**The speed initially takes my breath away. Of course, I've never been on a train, as travel between the districts is forbidden except officially sanctioned duties. For us, that's mainly transporting coal. But this is no ordinary coal train. It's one of the high-speed Capitol models that average 250 miles per hour. Our journey to the Capitol will take less than a day.**

"Wow," Hermione said, aghast.

"That's an incredible speed," Harry breathed, wondering if trains would actually be that fast in the future.

"Is that very fast?" Ginny asked, looking to Ron, Luna and Neville who wore confused faces.

"At that speed, we could probably take the Hogwarts Express and be at Hogwarts in less than an hour," Hermione informed them.

"Brilliant!" Ron said.

"Wicked," said Neville.

"I quite enjoyed the long rides," Luna said with nostalgia. "The countryside is quite beautiful."

"There's nothing quite like it, is there?" Hermione thought aloud.

**In school, they tell us the Capitol was built in a place once called the Rockies. District 12 was in a region known is Appalachia. Even hundreds of years ago, they mined coal here. Which is why our miners have to dig so deep.**

**Somehow it all comes back to coal at school. Besides basic reading and math most of our instruction is coal-related. Except for the weekly lecture on the history of Panem. It's mostly a lot of blather about what we owe the Capitol. I know there must be more than they're telling us, an actual account of what happened during the rebellion. But I don't spend much time thinking about it. Whatever the truth is, I don't see how it will help me get food on the table.**

"Sounds like toad face could have worked there," Ron said in distaste.

**The tribute train is fancier than even the room in the Justice Building. We are each given our own chambers that have a bedroom, a dressing area, and a private bathroom with hot and cold running water. We don't have hot water at home, unless we boil it.**

**There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket tells me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my mother's blue dress and take a hot shower. I've never had a shower before.**

Luna frowned at that and her eyes sunk as she released a small sigh. "It's quite sad how poor she grew up."

**It's like being in a summer rain, only warmer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants.**

**At the last minute, I remember Madge's little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It's as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips. I suddenly recognize it. A mockingjay.**

**They're funny birds and something of a slap in the face to the Capitol. During the rebellion, the Capitol bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was muttations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabberjay that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively male, that were released into regions where the Capitol's enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they'd fly back to centers to be recorded. It took people awhile to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centers were shut down and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.**

**Only they didn't die off. Instead, the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They had lost the ability to enunciate words but could still mimic a range of human vocal sounds, from a child's high-pitched warble to a man's deep tones. And they could re-create songs. Not just a few notes, but whole songs with multiple verses, if you had the patience to sing them and if they liked your voice.**

Luna's eyes lit up at the description. "They sound magical!" she said in excitement. "Imagine if they existed..."

"This is a muggle fictional book, Luna," Hermione said in a soft voice.

"Yes," she mused, "but that doesn't mean that some creature similar in nature doesn't exist in the world."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it instantly. Though she doubted such a creature existed, it wasn't an altogether impossibility. Many things she always believed were impossible, including magic, had proved to be real. "That's a possibility, Luna. I'd be happy to help you research."

"Thank you, Hermione," she said.

**My father was particularly fond of mockingjays. When we went hunting, he would whistle or sing complicated songs to them and, after a polite pause, they'd always sing back. Not everyone is treated with such respect. But whenever my father sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was that beautiful, high and clear and so filled with life it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. I could never bring myself to continue the practice after he was gone. Still, there's something comforting about the little bird. It's like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me. I fasten the pin onto my shirt, and with the dark green fabric as a background, I can almost imagine the mockingjay flying through the trees.**

**Effie Trinket comes to collect me for supper. I follow her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished paneled walls. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. Peeta Mellark sits waiting for us, the chair next to him empty.**

" **Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie Trinket brightly.**

" **Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," says Peeta.**

" **Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie Trinket. I think she's relieved by Haymitch's absence, and who can blame her?**

"I reckon he might be a laugh," Ron said.

**The supper comes in courses. A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Effie Trinket keeps reminding us to save space because there's more to come. But I'm stuffing myself because I've never had food like this, so good and so much, and because probably the best thing I can do between now and the Games is put on a few pounds.**

"That's how I felt when I went to Hogwarts," Harry said with fondness. "I ate until I felt sick."

"No different from Ron on a daily basis," Hermione said. Small chuckles were heard through the room, and a loud, high-pitched laugh came from Luna, who seemed to have found the joke highly amusing. Hermione smiled at her and faced Ron whose ears were the slightest shade of pink.

" **At least, you two have decent manners," says Effie as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."**

**The pair last year were two kids from the Seam who'd never, not one day of their lives, had enough to eat. And when they did have food, table manners were surely the last thing on their minds. Peeta's a baker's son. My mother taught Prim and I to eat properly, so yes, I can handle a fork and knife. But I hate Effie Trinket's comment so much I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the tablecloth. This makes her purse her lips tightly together.**

"She's got fire, this one," Neville chortled.

"I like her," Ginny said.

"I'm sure you do," Harry said, "I can imagine you doing the same if you were feeling particularly cheeky."

**Now that the meal's over, I'm fighting to keep the food down. I can see Peeta's looking a little green, too. Neither of our stomachs is used to such rich fare. But if I can hold down Greasy Sae's concoction of mice meat, pig entrails, and tree bark — a winter specialty — I'm determined to hang on to this.**

**We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that, since none of them have to attend reapings themselves.**

**One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, (the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be our competition. A few stand out in my mind. A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she's very like Prim in size and demeanor. Only when she mounts the stage and they ask for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There's no one willing to take her place.**

"That's sad," Harry sighed.

**Last of all, they show District 12. Prim being called, me running forward to volunteer. You can't miss the desperation in my voice as I shove Prim behind me, as if I'm afraid no one will hear and they'll take Prim away. But, of course, they do hear. I see Gale pulling her off me and watch myself mount the stage. The commentators are not sure what to say about the crowd's refusal to applaud. The silent salute. One says that District 12 has always been a bit backward but that local customs can be charming. As if on cue, Haymitch falls off the stage, and they groan comically. Peeta's name is drawn, and he quietly takes his place. We shake hands. They cut to the anthem again, and the program ends.**

**Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in.**

"I think everyone was," Ron said with a laugh.

" **Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."**

**Peeta unexpectedly laughs. "He was drunk," says Peeta. "He's drunk every year."**

" **Every day," I add. I can't help smirking a little. Effie Trinket makes it sound like Haymitch just has somewhat rough manners that could be corrected with a few tips from her.**

"They're getting along," Ginny said.

"Yeah, over their drunken mentor," Ron responded.

" **Yes," hisses Effie Trinket. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"**

"That's a scary thought," Harry said.

**Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he says in a slurred voice. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in the mess.**

"Yuck!" Ginny said, sticking her tongue out.

"Disgusting," Hermione said as she scrunched her nose up as if she could smell the vomit.

" **So laugh away!" says Effie Trinket. She hops in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and flees the room.**

"I do hope he'll sober up," Luna said in a serious tone. "I believe he could be quite clever."

"He seems like a drunken mess to me," Ron retorted.

"There could be many reasons he might be that way," Luna said.

"Besides," Hermione said, nodding her head in agreement with Luna, "there's a reason he's a victor, isn't there?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Toss me the book, Neville," Harry said, holding his hands in the air by his chest.

"Sure thing, mate." Neville closed the book and tossed it like a quaffle, the pages flapping through the air. Hermione's eyes widened and they followed the book through the air until it smacked into Harry's hands. He smiled triumphantly.

"Are you two wizards or school children?" Hermione demanded. "Summon it next time, Harry." At Harry's sheepish grin, Ron danced his index finger gently across Hermione's hand, calming her. She took a deep breath. " _Please_ ," she added.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry and Neville said simultaneously.

Harry stretched his back straight and leaned forward, book open in hands, to rest his elbows against his knees. He began reading.

**For a few moments, Peeta and I take in the scene of our mentor trying to rise out of the slippery vile stuff from his stomach. The reek of vomit and raw spirits almost brings my dinner up.**

Hermione looked queasy. "Must the chapter begin with more vomit?"

"Do we need an intermission?" Ginny asked.

"It seems everything makes me nauseous lately," Hermione rubbed her inflated belly. "No, I'm fine."

**We exchange a glance. Obviously Haymitch isn't much, but Effie Trinket is right about one thing, once we're in the arena he's all we've got. As if by some unspoken agreement, Peeta and I each take one of Haymitch's arms and help him to his feet.**

" **I tripped?" Haymitch asks. "Smells bad." He wipes his hand on his nose, smearing his face with vomit.**

"Reminds me of nights at the pub with Seamus," Neville said, musing. Ron and Harry snickered, remembering Seamus' last birthday night. He had drank countless fire whiskey shots. If he drank enough, he was convinced, he'd be able to breath fire like a dragon. Needless to say it hadn't worked.

"Luck of the Irish, huh?" Ron said.

" **Let's get you back to your room," says Peeta. "Clean you up a bit."**

**We half-lead half-carry Haymitch back to his compartment. Since we can't exactly set him down on the embroidered bedspread, we haul him into the bathtub and turn the shower on him. He hardly notices.**

" **It's okay," Peeta says to me. "I'll take it from here."**

**I can't help feeling a little grateful since the last thing I want to do is strip down Haymitch, wash the vomit out of his chest hair, and tuck him into bed.**

"That might mentally scar the poor girl," Ginny said.

"I can't imagine any girl wanting to do that," Hermione said.

"Or any person, really," Luna said. She began laugh to herself. Neville rose his eyebrows at her but smiled all the same, amused. "Peeta is really kind." she stated, "He can't even use a spell to clean the vomit away first. Imagine how different this book might be if they were witches and wizards."

Neville began to laugh, too. "Imagine muggles reading about magic."

"They do, Neville," Hermione said. "Many old folk tales and children's stories have magic. It's quite popular with muggles."

"Do you reckon they believe magic exists?" Neville asked.

"I don't think so. Most magic in stories and film is quite ludicrous."

"Do you remember that witch in Wizard of Oz?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron had a minor laughing fit. "Mate, the witch was green. Imagine! Our girls, green skin and moldy."

"I don't think I want to, Ron," Neville said. He looked baffled, his mouth hanging open.

**Possibly Peeta is trying to make a good impression on him, to be his favorite once the Games begin. But judging by the state he's in, Haymitch will have no memory of this tomorrow.**

" **All right," I say. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." There's any number on the train. Cooking for us. Waiting on us. Guarding us. Taking care of us is their job.**

" **No. I don't want them," says Peeta.**

**I nod and head to my own room. I understand how Peeta feels. I can't stand the sight of the Capitol people myself. But making them deal with Haymitch might be a small form of revenge. So I'm pondering the reason why he insists on taking care of Haymitch and all of a sudden I think, It's because he's being kind. Just as he was kind to give me the bread.**

**The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.**

"I know that feeling," Harry said.

**And I can't let Peeta do this. Not where we're going. So I decide, from this moment on, to have as little as possible to do with the baker's son.**

Luna sighed.

**When I get back to my room, the train is pausing at a platform to refuel. I quickly open the window, toss the cookies Peeta's father gave me out of the train, and slam the glass shut. No more. No more of either of them.**

"I would have kept the biscuits," Ron said.

Luna made a snorting sort of noise followed by a laugh. "Of course you would have, Ron."

"I doubt she'll be able to manage not speaking to him for long," Ginny said.

Harry grinned. "I don't know," he said, "you managed not speaking to me for quite a while."

Ginny blushed and smacked him with a pillow. "Quiet, Harry."

Ron looked at his sister, seeing her blush and started speaking. "If I remember correctly-"

"And you don't," said Ginny.

"You did," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "write Harry a very lovely poem on Valentine's Day."

"Oh, shove off, Ron," Ginny said, the tips of her ears turning scarlet.

Harry laughed while Hermione giggled. "Third...no second year, I believe." Ginny crossed her arms tightly together against her chest.

"I'm sure it was lovely, Ginny," Luna said.

"Yeah, it charmed me right off my feet," Harry said, kissing her cheek. Harry saw a smile soften her face and he continued reading from the book.

**Unfortunately, the packet of cookies hits the ground and bursts open in a patch of dandelions by the track. I only see the image for a moment, because the train is off again, but it's enough. Enough to remind me of that other dandelion in the school yard years ago . . .**

**I had just turned away from Peeta Mellark's bruised face when I saw the dandelion and I knew hope wasn't lost.**

"She associates him with hope," Hermione said.

**I plucked it carefully and hurried home. I grabbed a bucket and Prim's hand and headed to the Meadow and yes, it was dotted with the golden-headed weeds. After we'd harvested those, we scrounged along inside the fence for probably a mile until we'd filled the bucket with the dandelion greens, stems, and flowers. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad and the rest of the bakery bread.**

Luna nodded her head, crossing her legs and tucking them beneath her. "She has a deeper connection with him than she realizes." Luna felt that if Katniss would rely on Peeta, they would both benefit from it. Peeta's actions reminded her that hope wasn't lost and from that moment, she knew what she could do to survive. His actions helped her. Luna was convinced that Katniss needed him. The author was hinting at it. Luna just hoped they would both somehow be alive by the end of the story.

" **What else?" Prim asked me. "What other food can we find?"**

" **All kinds of things," I promised her. "I just have to remember them."**

"Hopefully no mushrooms," Harry commented, thinking of his, Ron and Hermione camping in the woods during the horcrux hunt. They hadn't spoken of that time much for years, but he was certain none of them had eaten a mushroom since.

**My mother had a book she'd brought with her from the apothecary shop. The pages were made of old parchment and covered in ink drawings of plants. Neat handwritten blocks told their names, where to gather them, when they came in bloom, their medical uses. But my father added other entries to the book. Plants for eating, not healing. Dandelions, pokeweed, wild onions, pines. Prim and I spent the rest of the night poring over those pages.**

"That sounds interesting," Neville said. He thought he should read more about muggle herbology.

**The next day, we were off school. For a while I hung around the edges of the Meadow, but finally I worked up the courage to go under the fence. It was the first time I'd been there alone, without my father's weapons to protect me. But I retrieved the small bow and arrows he'd made me from a hollow tree. I probably didn't go more than twenty yards into the woods that day. Most of the time, I perched up in the branches of an old oak, hoping for game to come by. After several hours, I had the good luck to kill a rabbit.**

**I'd shot a few rabbits before, with my father's guidance. But this I'd done on my own.**

**We hadn't had meat in months. The sight of the rabbit seemed to stir something in my mother. She roused herself, skinned the carcass, and made a stew with the meat and some more greens Prim had gathered. Then she acted confused and went back to bed, but when the stew was done, we made her eat a bowl.**

**The woods became our savior, and each day I went a bit farther into its arms. It was slow-going at first, but I was determined to feed us. I stole eggs from nests, caught fish in nets, sometimes managed to shoot a squirrel or rabbit for stew, and gathered the various plants that sprung up beneath my feet. Plants are tricky. Many are edible, but one false mouthful and you're dead. I checked and double-checked the plants I harvested with my father's pictures. I kept us alive.**

"Wow," Ginny said, "I admire her determination."

"And courage. She might give you Gryffindors a run for your galleons," Luna joked.

The edges of Harry's lips curved upwards. Katniss would have been a Gryffindor indeed. "I think she would, Luna."

**Any sign of danger, a distant howl, the inexplicable break of a branch, sent me flying back to the fence at first. Then I began to risk climbing trees to escape the wild dogs that quickly got bored and moved on. Bears and cats lived deeper in, perhaps disliking the sooty reek of our district.**

**On May 8th, I went to the Justice Building, signed up for my tesserae, and pulled home my first batch of grain and oil in Prim's toy wagon. On the eighth of every month, I was entitled to do the same. I couldn't stop hunting and gathering, of course. The grain was not enough to live on, and there were other things to buy, soap and milk and thread. What we didn't absolutely have to eat, I began to trade at the Hob. It was frightening to enter that place without my father at my side, but people had respected him, and they accepted me. Game was game after all, no matter who'd shot it. I also sold at the back doors of the wealthier clients in town, trying to remember what my father had told me and learning a few new tricks as well. The butcher would buy my rabbits but not squirrels. The baker enjoyed squirrel but would only trade for one if his wife wasn't around. The Head Peacekeeper loved wild turkey. The mayor had a passion for strawberries.**

**In late summer, I was washing up in a pond when I noticed the plants growing around me. Tall with leaves like arrowheads. Blossoms with three white petals. I knelt down in the water, my fingers digging into the soft mud, and I pulled up handfuls of the roots. Small, bluish tubers that don't look like much but boiled or baked are as good as any potato. "Katniss," I said aloud. It's the plant I was named for. And I heard my father's voice joking, "As long as you can find yourself, you'll never starve."**

"Well, that's a useful bit of advice," Ron said.

**I spent hours stirring up the pond bed with my toes and a stick, gathering the tubers that floated to the top. That night, we feasted on fish and katniss roots until we were all, for the first time in months, full.**

**Slowly, my mother returned to us. She began to clean and cook and preserve some of the food I brought in for winter. People traded us or paid money for her medical remedies. One day, I heard her singing.**

**Prim was thrilled to have her back, but I kept watching, waiting for her to disappear on us again. I didn't trust her. And some small gnarled place inside me hated her for her weakness, for her neglect, for the months she had put us through. Prim forgave her, but I had taken a step back from my mother, put up a wall to protect myself from needing her, and nothing was ever the same between us again.**

**Now I was going to die without that ever being set right. I thought of how I had yelled at her today in the Justice Building. I had told her I loved her, too, though. So maybe it would all balance out.**

"She knows, Katniss," Hermione whispered.

**For a while I stand staring out the train window, wishing I could open it again, but unsure of what would happen at such high speed. In the distance, I see the lights of another district. 7? 10? I don't know. I think about the people in their houses, settling in for bed. I imagine my home, with its shutters drawn tight. What are they doing now, my mother and Prim? Were they able to eat supper? The fish stew and the strawberries? Or did it lay untouched on their plates? Did they watch the recap of the day's events on the battered old TV that sits on the table against the wall? Surely, there were more tears. Is my mother holding up, being strong for Prim? Or has she already started to slip away, leaving the weight of the world on my sister's fragile shoulders?**

Hermione frowned. "I certainly hope not."

**Prim will undoubtedly sleep with my mother tonight. The thought of that scruffy old Buttercup posting himself on the bed to watch over Prim comforts me. If she cries, he will nose his way into her arms and curl up there until she calms down and falls asleep. I'm so glad I didn't drown him.**

**Imagining my home makes me ache with loneliness. This day has been endless. Could Gale and I have been eating blackberries only this morning? It seems like a lifetime ago. Like a long dream that deteriorated into a nightmare. Maybe, if I go to sleep, I will wake up back in District 12, where I belong.**

Harry paused for a moment. The words written on the page brought a terrible feeling back into his heart. A feeling he had felt before when he, too, had been sentenced to death. He had walked into the forest, leaving Hogwarts, his home, behind him just as Katniss was. It was like a distant dream all those years ago, like walking into another life that was not his own. He just hoped, as he had, that she might live.

**Probably the drawers hold any number of nightgowns, but I just strip off my shirt and pants and climb into bed in my underwear. The sheets are made of soft, silky fabric. A thick fluffy comforter gives immediate warmth.**

**If I'm going to cry, now is the time to do it. By morning, I'll be able to wash the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.**

Luna's eyes dropped down to where her hands rested on her leg. "This book will be very, very sad," she said. "I'm so thankful to be with friends. Some passages remind me of the battle."

Neville leaned over and grasped his hand in her own, his calloused fingertips tracing gentle circles on her skin. It brought an immediate sense of comfort and familiarity to her. Just after the battle of Hogwarts, Neville and she had a romance. It hadn't lasted long before they agreed they'd be better as friends, however she would never regret it. They had experienced new, wonderful things together, and she felt lucky to have shared something so special with a good friend. **  
**

**Gray light is leaking through the curtains when the rapping rouses me. I hear Effie Trinket's voice, calling me to rise. "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" I try and imagine, for a moment, what it must be like inside that woman's head. What thoughts fill her waking hours? What dreams come to her at night? I have no idea.**

"I think," Ron said, "we'd all like to know."

"I think I'd rather not know," Ginny said.

**I put the green outfit back on since it's not really dirty, just slightly crumpled from spending the night on the floor. My fingers trace the circle around the little gold mockingjay and I think of the woods, and of my father, and of my mother and Prim waking up, having to get on with things.**

"That's never easy," Neville said.

"It's not meant to be, I don't think," Luna said to him. She offered a small smile.

**I slept in the elaborate braided hair my mother did for the reaping and it doesn't look too bad, so I just leave it up. It doesn't matter. We can't be far from the Capitol now. And once we reach the city, my stylist will dictate my look for the opening ceremonies tonight anyway. I just hope I get one who doesn't think nudity is the last word in fashion.**

**As I enter the dining car, Effie Trinket brushes by me with a cup of black coffee. She's muttering obscenities under her breath. Haymitch, his face puffy and red from the previous day's indulgences, is chuckling. Peeta holds a roll and looks somewhat embarrassed.**

" **Sit down! Sit down!" says Haymitch, waving me over. The moment I slide into my chair I'm served an enormous platter of food. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. The basket of rolls they set before me would keep my family going for a week. There's an elegant glass of orange juice. At least, I think it's orange juice. I've only even tasted an orange once, at New Year's when my father bought one as a special treat. A cup of coffee. My mother adores coffee, which we could almost never afford, but it only tastes bitter and thin to me. A rich brown cup of something I've never seen.**

"That sounds tasty," Hermione exclaimed.

"Wow," Harry laughed. "Couples really do start to sound the same."

"That's my girl," Ron grinned.

" **They call it hot chocolate," says Peeta. "It's good."**

**I take a sip of the hot, sweet, creamy liquid and a shudder runs through me. Even though the rest of the meal beckons, I ignore it until I've drained my cup. Then I stuff down every mouthful I can hold, which is a substantial amount, being careful to not overdo it on the richest stuff. One time, my mother told me that I always eat like I'll never see food again. And I said, "I won't unless I bring it home." That shut her up.**

**When my stomach feels like it's about to split open, I lean back and take in my breakfast companions. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in hot chocolate. Haymitch hasn't paid much attention to his platter, but he's knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it's some kind of spirit. I don't know Haymitch, but I've seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He'll be incoherent by the time we reach the Capitol.**

"There's a comforting thought," Hermione said.

**I realize I detest Haymitch. No wonder the District 12 tributes never stand a chance. It isn't just that we've been underfed and lack training. Some of our tributes have still been strong enough to make a go of it. But we rarely get sponsors and he's a big part of the reason why. The rich people who back tributes — either because they're betting on them or simply for the bragging rights of picking a winner — expect someone classier than Haymitch to deal with.**

" **So, you're supposed to give us advice," I say to Haymitch.**

" **Here's some advice. Stay alive," says Haymitch, and then bursts out laughing.**

"Well that's fairly obvious," Ginny said.

**I exchange a look with Peeta before I remember I'm having nothing more to do with him. I'm surprised to see the hardness in his eyes. He generally seems so mild.**

" **That's very funny," says Peeta. Suddenly he lashes out at the glass in Haymitch's hand. It shatters on the floor, sending the bloodred liquid running toward the back of the train. "Only not to us."**

"Well," Ron smirked, "the kid's got a temper."

"Says the one with a short temper," Ginny responded.

"Oi. I'm not the only one with a temper."

"Just the worst one," she shot back. Her cheeks were flushing as Harry watched in amusement. He caught sight of Luna and Hermione laughing to themselves. Neville was chuckling under his breath.

"I reckon it's a Weasley trait," Harry said.

**Haymitch considers this a moment, then punches Peeta in the jaw, knocking him from his chair. When he turns back to reach for the spirits, I drive my knife into the table between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers. I brace myself to deflect his hit, but it doesn't come. Instead he sits back and squints at us.**

Hermione gasped. "He punched him! I can't believe it."

"Slimy bastard," Ron scowled.

" **Well, what's this?" says Haymitch. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"**

**Peeta rises from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He starts to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.**

" **No," says Haymitch, stopping him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."**

" **That's against the rules," says Peeta.**

" **Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," says Haymitch.**

"Interesting strategy," Harry said, looking up briefly from the book. He wasn't sure how he felt about this Haymitch character. He didn't think he liked him all that much, but his strategy might be clever if it doesn't backfire on them.

**He turns to me. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"**

**The bow and arrow is my weapon. But I've spent a fair amount of time throwing knives as well. Sometimes, if I've wounded an animal with an arrow, it's better to get a knife into it, too, before I approach it. I realize that if I want Haymitch's attention, this is my moment to make an impression. I yank the knife out of the table, get a grip on the blade, and then throw it into the wall across the room. I was actually just hoping to get a good solid stick, but it lodges in the seam between two panels, making me look a lot better than I am.**

"Story of my life," Harry mumbled to himself.

"You're every bit great and talented," Ginny whispered in his ear.

" **Stand over here. Both of you," says Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."**

**Peeta and I don't question this. The Hunger Games aren't a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors.**

Hermione sighed. _Too bad the author doesn't believe things will change in the future,_ she thought.

" **All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," says Haymitch. "But you have to do exactly what I say."**

**It's not much of a deal but still a giant step forward from ten minutes ago when we had no guide at all.**

"He'll come around. Perhaps he just wants them to prove themselves," Luna said.

"I hope so, Luna," Neville said. "But he can only help one of them, can't he?"

"That complicates things," Ron said.

" **Fine," says Peeta.**

" **So help us," I say. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone —"**

" **One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," says Haymitch.**

" **But —" I begin.**

" **No buts. Don't resist," says Haymitch. He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it's as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains, they were easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.**

**Peeta Mellark and I stand in silence as the train speeds along. The tunnel goes on and on and I think of the tons of rock separating me from the sky, and my chest tightens. I hate being encased in stone this way. It reminds me of the mines and my father, trapped, unable to reach sunlight, buried forever in the darkness.**

**The train finally begins to slow and suddenly bright light floods the compartment. We can't help it. Both Peeta and I run to the window to see what we've only seen on television, the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem. The cameras haven't lied about its grandeur. If anything, they have not quite captured the magnificence of the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that tower into the air, the shiny cars that roll down the wide paved streets, the oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces who have never missed a meal. All the colors seem artificial, the pinks too deep, the greens too bright, the yellows painful to the eyes, like the flat round disks of hard candy we can never afford to buy at the tiny sweet shop in District 12.**

"That sounds like a nightmare," Ron said.

**The people begin to point at us eagerly as they recognize a tribute train rolling into the city. I step away from the window, sickened by their excitement, knowing they can't wait to watch us die. But Peeta holds his ground, actually waving and smiling at the gawking crowd. He only stops when the train pulls into the station, blocking us from their view.**

**He sees me staring at him and shrugs. "Who knows?" he says. "One of them may be rich."**

"Smart boy," Ginny said, nodding her head. She wasn't sure how the story would play out, but she didn't think it would be hard for people to like Peeta.

**I have misjudged him. I think of his actions since the reaping began. The friendly squeeze of my hand. His father showing up with the cookies and promising to feed Prim . . . did Peeta put him up to that? His tears at the station. Volunteering to wash Haymitch but then challenging him this morning when apparently the nice-guy approach had failed. And now the waving at the window, already trying to win the crowd.**

**All of the pieces are still fitting together, but I sense he has a plan forming. He hasn't accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me the bread, is fighting hard to kill me.**

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion," Hermione said.

"But it's possible she's right," Ron said.

"It's possible she's wrong," Ginny said.

"I think," Luna said, "there's just one way to find out."


End file.
